


Secret Date

by molossiamerica (afjakwrites)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: High School AU, M/M, jealous alfred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 21:03:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16840381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afjakwrites/pseuds/molossiamerica
Summary: Alfred is jealous of his best friend’s mysterious new love interest.





	Secret Date

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted to my writing blog @afjakwrites

When Arthur had first explained to Alfred that he couldn’t come over that weekend because he had a date, Alfred had hardly been able to believe it. He’d stared at his best friend incredulously from across the lunch table, blue eyes widened and thin brows furrowed with obvious distaste. 

“Dude, what?” Alfred had said after a moment, dropping the half-eaten ham sandwich in his hand onto his lunch tray. “A date? With who?” 

Arthur’s pale cheeks, littered with freckles, went red in a way Alfred usually found entirely too adorable. Now, though–knowing that Arthur was blushing at the thought of some other boy and not him made Alfred sick to his stomach. “None of your business!” He huffed, averting his eyes. 

Alfred’s frown deepened into a scowl. “But we always hang out on Saturdays!” He whined childishly, eyes fixed resolutely upon Arthur’s face from behind his glasses. 

“I’m sorry, Alfred. There’s always next weekend,” Arthur had replied nonchalantly, waving a thin hand back and forth dismissively. “Besides, I could always come over Sunday for a bit. You’ll probably need help with your English essay anyway.”

Alfred had slumped back in his chair with an odd sinking feeling in his chest and folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, sure,” he muttered halfheartedly, his thoughts stuck on the mystery boy Arthur would be going out with over the weekend.

Arthur eyed him curiously for a moment, green eyes searching his best friend’s face as though he were looking for something. Knowing that he was acting strange, Alfred forced a cheerful smile onto his face and quickly changed the subject to his upcoming football game. But even as he blathered on about his teammates, he couldn’t help but to watch his best friend and wonder why he was so upset at the notion of the elder boy going on a date. 

* * *

That Sunday, Arthur arrived at Alfred’s house in the early afternoon with his backpack slung over his shoulder an uncharacteristically bright smile set upon his face. 

“Hey, Art,” Alfred greeted happily as he lead the boy up to his bedroom. 

“I was thinking we could start by proofreading our essays together,” Arthur said as he took a seat on the edge of Alfred’s bed and began rifling around in his backpack. He extracted a binder from it and set it on the bed beside him, then reached into his pocket for his phone. As he pulled his hand out of the pocket of his slacks, a small, square item fell out and landed on the floor of Alfred’s bedroom. Both he and Alfred looked down at it, the color immediately draining from Arthur’s face. 

“Dude, is that a condom?” Alfred asked, gaping at his best friend. 

Arthur’s cheeks went red and he reached down, snatching it off the floor and shoving it into his pocket. “E-Er–I-I just have it in case–”

Alfred’s expression soured and he folded his arms across his chest. “I’m guessing you like this mystery guy, then?” He interrupted, his voice strangely bitter. 

Arthur frowned and shrugged his shoulders. “W-Well, it was only the first date. I’m not quite sure yet,” he explained, clearly noticing Alfred’s sudden shift in mood. 

“Obviously you like him a little, huh? Otherwise you wouldn’t be carrying a fucking condom around, would you? Unless you’re having one-night stands now or something, too?” Alfred spat, thin brows furrowed. 

Arthur’s green eyes widened, clearly astonished by the outburst. “No! And even if I was, it shouldn’t matter to you! You have far more hook-ups than I do.” He retorted. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about this. It’s just a date!” 

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, only to falter. Arthur had a point–it didn’t make sense for him to react so negatively to the idea of his best friend dating. There was no logical reason for it, no clear cause that Alfred could identify, and yet he couldn’t resist the bitterness and anger that overtook him whenever he thought of Arthur in some man’s arms. It drove Alfred crazy beyond control, and he couldn’t help but to grow irritated at the thought or mention of Arthur’s possible romantic or sexual relationships.

In the back of his head, a small voice whispered to Alfred that there was only one person Arthur should be with. He didn’t mind the thought of Arthur being wrapped up in someone’s arms if that someone was _him_. In fact, the idea was actually rather pleasant to Alfred. 

_Shit._

Alfred stared at his best friend for a moment longer, astonished by the realization he’d just come to. He _liked_ Arthur. Like, _really_ liked him. _Shit._

“Y’know, I think it’s cause I actually have a really, really bad headache,” Alfred replied nervously, snatching Arthur’s binder off of his bed and shoving it back into the elder boy’s backpack. “I’m sorry, Artie, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just need some rest right now.” As he spoke, he passed Arthur’s backpack to the boy and pulled him to his feet, ushering him to the door. “You can show yourself out, right? Great! See you tomorrow, dude!” Alfred said, laughing nervously as he all but pushed the Brit out of his bedroom and shut the door behind him. 

Arthur blinked, utterly bewildered by Alfred’s behavior. Then, he turned on his heel and headed for the door, phone in hand and already dialing Francis’ number. 

* * *

For the next three days, Alfred avoided Arthur like the plague. On Monday, he skipped school altogether, citing his headache as the reason for his absence. On Tuesday, he paid extra attention in all of his classes and left lunch twenty minutes early for a “football meeting.” On Wednesday, they were invited to sit at Gilbert Beilshmidt’s lunch table and Alfred happily agreed, engaging in conversation with everyone else but Arthur. 

It was on Thursday when, as Arthur was attempting to show Alfred some pictures he’d taken of his cat, Crumpet, from the night before, he finally had enough. Alfred was barely paying attention to Arthur, keeping his eyes anywhere but on the Brit’s face and giving only nods and “uh-huh”’s to whatever the Brit said. His knee was bouncing anxiously underneath the table and the fingers of his right hand were twisting the left sleeve of his jacket relentlessly. 

“Alright, Alfred, what’s wrong with you?” Arthur asked, setting his phone down on the table and fixing Alfred with a critical stare. 

Alfred blinked, surprised, and met Arthur’s gaze for a second before he fixed his eyes upon the table. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, you’ve been acting off this whole week. What’s wrong?”

Alfred shook his head rapidly. “I dunno what you’re talking about, dude. I’m just a little nervous about the homecoming game this weekend, ‘s all.”

“Don’t lie to me, Alfred. You’re terrible at it.” Arthur deadpanned, frowning. 

Alfred still wouldn’t meet Arthur’s eyes. “You still seeing your mystery man?” He asked suddenly, a pinkish tint rising to his suntanned cheeks. 

_Stupid_! Alfred scolded himself. He’d been acting like a jackass all week, and now he was clearly giving himself away. Could he _be_ any worse at this? Why did having feelings for someone have to be so hard? And why did he have to have feelings for _Arthur_ of all people? It was the worst form of torture Alfred could imagine! To be so enamored by his best friend and want so badly to talk to him, to gush about everything he suddenly realized he’d been feeling and be completely unable to. 

He wanted to tell Arthur how cute he was when he smiled, how pretty his eyes looked in the light, how sexy he was when he fell back against Alfred’s bed after a long night of studying and his sweater would lift the slightest bit to show off the pale skin of his stomach. Alfred had never wanted anything so badly in his life, nor had he ever been so scared to try and take it. 

Arthur blinked, surprised by the sudden change in subject. “What? Yes, I’ve seen him once since Saturday, although I don’t see how that relates to this.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t. Listen, Art, I gotta go, um, talk to Kiku about something. It’s uh, it’s really really important so I can’t stick around. See ya,” Alfred said, jumping up and rushing away before any more could be said. 

Arthur turned, watching Alfred retreat with astonishment. 

“My, my, what’s got him so worked up?” Asked a familiar voice, making Arthur turn around. Francis had slid into Alfred’s former seat and was now gazing at Arthur with a smug smile playing on his lips and his blue eyes alight with mischief. 

“He asked about my date, then ran off before any more could be said.” Arthur said. 

“See? I told you it would work! The poor thing’s probably dying of jealousy right now,” Francis said with a chuckle. 

Arthur made a face. “I’m not sure. He’s certainly thinking about it and he’s been acting strange, but he’s avoiding me. He can hardly look at me!” 

Francis nodded sagely. “Believe me, Arthur, as long as you follow my advice you will have him. Did you drop the condom like I told you?”

Arthur blushed. “Keep your voice down, frog!” He scolded. “And yes, I did. He practically short-circuited before kicking me out of his house.” 

The elder boy laughed aloud. “Well, he’s certainly an amusing one. Now’s the time, Arthur. Ask him what’s wrong, and this time don’t let him run off.”

* * *

Taking Francis’ advice, Arthur found Alfred just as the boy was leaving school and fell into step beside him. 

“Hello, Alfred,” he said, smiling up at his friend. 

Alfred jolted, looking down at him with wide eyes. “A-Arthur! What’re you doing here, man?” He asked nervously. 

“I thought I could walk you home today. I… Well, I wanted to apologize for earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just–I want to know what’s wrong.” Arthur said gently. 

Alfred’s shoulders slumped and he looked down to his Brit with guilt in his eyes. “Look, I know I’ve been acting weird and I know it’s freaking you out. ‘M sorry about that, man. I’ve just been thinking about some things.”

“Things you can’t share with your best friend?”

Alfred laughed aloud and, unthinking, replied, “You’re the last person I’d tell.” 

Arthur’s thin lips twisted into a scowl, concerned. Perhaps Francis had been completely wrong about Alfred returning his feelings–it was certainly starting to seem that way. “What the hell does that mean? What did I do, Alfred?”

Alfred turned his eyes away and continued down the street hurriedly. “You didn’t do anything! That’s not what I meant.”

Frustrated, Arthur quickened his pace as well and continued to glare up at Alfred. “Obviously I did _something_ to make you act like a prick!” He shouted. 

Alfred stomped up the steps of his front porch and quickly unlocked the door. He held it open for Arthur, gesturing for him to step inside. Arthur did so, stomping all the way, and Alfred slammed the door shut before whirling upon Arthur. 

“You wanna what you did?!” Alfred yelled in return. 

Arthur stepped forward and into Alfred’s space. “Jesus Christ, yes! That’s all I’ve wanted to know for the entire week!” 

Alfred threw his hands up in the air. “You fucked some other guy, okay?! That’s why I’m acting like a prick!”

Arthur froze in place, and when he spoke his voice had been drained of all anger. “Wh-What?” He asked. 

“You–you’re going out with some other guy and you’re carrying around condoms and–God, Arthur, it’s driving me fucking crazy! I know you’re not mine, but I wish you were and I fucking hate knowing that you’re off letting someone else do things to you that I want to do, be with you in ways that I can only fucking _dream_ of–!” Alfred stopped there, his face flushed red and his breath coming out in short pants. He took a step away from Arthur and looked to the floor, seeming to have been drained of all of his anger as well. 

Arthur gaped, shocked. He couldn’t believe Francis’ plan had actually worked, for one. More than that, though, he couldn’t believe Alfred actually had feelings for him–was _jealous_ of the idea of some other man being with him. He was so surprised he hardly knew what to say, simply staring at his friend in open-mouthed shock. 

Alfred shifted on his feet. “I know you don’t want me and you have whatever the hell the guy’s name is, but I can’t–I can’t stand it. I didn’t know I wanted you and then you mentioned someone else and–and I realized that I didn’t want you to be with anyone else. _I_ don’t want to be with anyone else,” Alfred said, his usually strong voice shaky and hesitant. 

Arthur sighed and stepped forward, reaching up to cup Alfred’s tan cheeks in his hands. They were burning beneath Arthur’s fingertips, red and hot to the touch. Alfred looked up, astonished, and Arthur smiled knowingly. 

“There’s no one else, Alfred. I’ve wanted you for longer than I can remember, Christ, probably from the very first time I saw you.”

“What about the other guy?” Alfred asked, wide-eyed. 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Fuck him.”

Alfred grinned down at him and slid his shaky hands around Arthur’s waist, tugging him closer. “I’d rather not.” 

Arthur smacked him lightly on the arm despite his matching grin. “There never was anyone else, Alfred. I only told you that because Francis said it’d be a good way to get you to admit your feelings.” He admitted, feeling guilty about having lied. 

“Wait, so all that stuff about dates–?”

“Nope. No dates.”

“And the condom?”

“Just a trick Francis thought might work.”

Alfred laughed a bit at that. “Well, mission accomplished."


End file.
